


The Start of a New Year

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:15:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22092421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: A new year, a new beginning.  But January just wasn't going the way they'd planned.  Well, as they'd learned in the past, sometimes a plan, even a very good plan, didn't pan out, and it looked like January's Theme of the Month was falling into that category for the guys.  Not that they hadn't had good intentions, really tried, but somehow it just wasn't working out the way they'd thought it would.  And with a theme of 'Jerks We Have Known', you'd have thought it would have been a sure fire winner, plenty of material!  After all, it wasn't like there was a shortage!
Comments: 6
Kudos: 2





	The Start of a New Year

It hadn't seemed that complicated, back when Actor had suggested his 'Theme of the Month' challenge. They'd decided on a topic for every month of the year and settled down to enjoy the fun. Well, as Actor had explained to Garrison, it kept them from being bored in between missions, and gave them something to think about during those all-too-frequent periods of waiting that the missions could involve.

The first year, though, by the time they got halfway through August's 'Awful Scary Story' month, they'd had to make some changes, at least if they were intending to get a good night's sleep. Admittedly, changing it to 'Amazing Amatory Adventures' month still might have disturbed their sleep, but at least they weren't waking each other up yelling from a nightmare one of the stories produced. 

This last December, with its 'Christmas Traditions', specifically 'An Old-Fashioned English Country Christmas', that didn't work out the way they'd planned either, though it had still been pretty damned good, considering. Who knew they'd find a true Chrismas spirit with a tiny band of refugee warriors, or that Goniff could sing like that??!

Now, in January, it seems they just might need to make more changes, either that or drop it entirely and just focus on the upcoming February, what with it being 'Full of Practical Jokes'.

Yeah, it had seemed they'd picked a good topic for January - 'Jerks We Have Known', but it turned out not as easy as you might have thought; certainly not as simple as when they'd first decided on it. 

The first year they'd breezed through, not that they'd had much time to spend on the topic what with being gone most of the month, but still, it hadn't taken too much thought. Names and events popped into their heads effortlessly; they'd shared stories, laughed or groaned as called for.

Now, though, after a year of dealing with life and the missions and HQ, it had become much more complicated. It seemed there were nuances to the subject they just hadn't considered before.

One of the first things they had to sort out was just what they really meant by 'jerk'. They all used the word, but it seems they each had a slightly different take on the term. That discussion came about when Casino suggested Major Kingston as 'the biggest jerk', and Chief had challenged that.

"Kingston's a real piece of work, alright, but I'd call him an asshole, not a jerk. Now, Major Johns, he's a jerk."

"Don't know 'e's so much a jerk, Chiefy. Well, 'e's a pompous twit, and probably needs someone to lead 'im around so's not to get lost, but don't know it that qualifies 'im as a jerk. Now, that Colonel Pryor, 'e was a right jerk, don't you think?"

Actor solemnly intoned, "being a self-made arrogant bastard, a sadistic one at that - I think that must be called something quite different than a 'jerk', Goniff."

"Yeah, well, what about that dame that tried to get the Warden up in front of a preacher? The one figuring he didn't have much to say about it, either?"

The other three looked at him, then each other, and shrugged. 

"Don't know I ever heard a woman being called a jerk, just guys," Chief said.

The discussion was still going on when Garrison poked his head in to see what was keeping them. They had to table the discussion for awhile, but each of them were giving the matter serious thought while they were on the firing range. Perhaps that's what improved their scores so noticeably, them putting faces on those targets.

Sooooo, did a jerk differ from an asshole? Often there were similarities, but were they actually the same? And if not, what made a person one of those, and someone else, the other?

And there were jerks, and there were sadistic bastards, like Actor said - Colonel Pryor and a few others they'd had the misfortune to run across - the first was bad enough, but the last seemed to need to be a category of their own. Even if they had all the qualifications for being called a jerk in some respects, including them under the January grouping of 'Jerks' diminished the whole malevolence of guys like Pryor, made them seem far less dangerous than they really were.

And how did the people who were just downright annoying fit it? Did that automatically qualify them for 'jerk' status? 

How about incompetent to the point of being dangerous? Did that qualify for 'jerk'? Or the ones so tied to the rule books and the taking of orders literally, like that submarine commander who'd left the guys stranded since his orders had only said 'bring Lieutenant Garrison back'.

And, could a woman qualify for 'jerk-dome', or was that solely a male province, with the women with a similar nature being termed something different?

By the time they'd finally argued all that out, half the month was gone. But, no worries. They figured they'd manage to make up for lost time. A few qualifications, a few ground rules, and they were set. After all, when you had all of HQ to draw upon, you weren't likely to run out of jerks, no matter HOW much you'd narrowed down the definition.

So, Major Johns, for sure. And Major Kingston - his jerkiness and his asshole-ness were about equal so they figured he could fit in either column. And Major Wells. They were all nominated, along with numerous others.

But then one evening the discussion took a sharp curve, when the question was posed as to whether, based on the increasingly-apparent statistics of their list, getting to be a Major automatically turned you INTO a jerk, or whether it was a prerequisite for getting the promotion in the first place. 

A cough and a stern look from Major Kevin Richards, over at a side table, being there to discuss some odd circumstances with Garrison, drew a laugh, especially with his offended huff and comment of "you DO realize I'm in the room, do you not?" 

Well, yes, of course they did. That was half the fun! 

"Now, Major, don't get your feathers all ruffled," Goniff said soothingly, but with a sly grin. "Your, oh, w'at do they call it? The exception that makes the rule? At least, anymore. Though there was a time . . . But still, seems you've grown out of that, not really a jerk at all anymore. Prob'ly our influence, you know; got you to loosen up some."

"I'm expected to thank you for that, I assume?" Richards growled, barely restraining that smile of amusement. He'd found himself adding a few names to their list, mentally anyway, as he'd listened. 

{"Colonel Merit, Major Davis, Major Ackman, Lieutenant Oberman, Major Cristman, Major Hewitt. Hmmm, there really DO seem to be quite a few of my rank in there."}. 

Richards frowned to himself, suddenly glad these men seemed to be excluding him from that list; he really didn't like to think of himself as being part of that group. 

{"And whether that is self-delusion or not, I'd prefer not to think about either. Well, that is human nature, after all. What was it Benjamin Constant said? 'In order to live at peace with ourselves, we almost always disguise our impotence or weakness as calculated actions and systems, and so we satisfy that part of us which is observing the other."}

In the end, the month was pretty much a disappointment, at least as far as that theme was concerned. Oh, not for the lack of possible entries, mind you, but for the sheer overwhelming number of entries. 

It seemed there were more jerks running around than you might think, enough that even narrowing the field down somewhat came to a disappointing halt. How do you even declare a winner, much less runner-ups, with more than a hundred (hell, far MORE than a hundred) in the offing, and that was already with eliminating any borderline cases??

It was on the twenty-eighth of January - a January where they'd spent twenty days of it blowing up a good chunk of the Continent before returning to the Mansion - that they declared it a total loss.

"Hate to say it, but it's a bust," Casino grumbled. They were relaxing together one last night before heading back out again. According to Garrison, it was somewhere in France this time, to do some shit at some university that Casino still hadn't wrapped his mind around. Whoopie!

"Well, there's nothing to say we can't do like w'at we did for August, you know. Change the theme if the first one didn't work as well as we thought," Goniff offered, glancing up from the very odd game of solitaire he was playing. 

[Multiples, he called it. Twos playing on fours, sixes, eights, or tens, threes being played on sixes or nines, fours only playing on eights, the other cards played as usual, either in their color or the opposite, but with all face cards being wild, filling in the blanks caused by the odd placing of the other cards.]

(There was a reason no one wanted to watch him play; it drove them all nuts! And if anyone accused him of cheating, he insisted on just looking superior, telling them "you just think that cause YOU don't UNDERSTAND the rules.")

He reminded them that they'd changed the August theme. No reason not to change this too. After all, he changed the rules on that card game to suit his fancy, didn't he? 

"We still got a little bit of time," he urged them.

"Change it to what? If we intend to stick with something 'J' for January, we already have allocated the 'joke' theme to July, with 'Jokey July', if you remember," Actor asked, drawing on his pipe. "Not to mention NEXT month." 

For his part, he would be just as content to skip the rest of the month, though he wasn't sure he was looking forward to February's 'Full of Practical Jokes' very much either. He had thought up one or two he thought would work quite well, but he was equally sure his colleagues would have done the same, and he was a little uncomfortable at being the brunt of their practical jokes. He DID value his dignity and they positively delighted in turning it to ruin.

Various alternatives for January were suggested, all starting with 'J' - jinx - jail - justice - Jezebels. 

The first made them uneasy, remembering the Greenglass twins; frankly none of them WANTED to remember the Greenglass twins. 

The second was depressing as hell and something they didn't want to discuss right now. 

The third wasn't something they'd experienced all that much of, at least, not in the positive sense, and starting a new year should start with something positive, or at least not downright demoralizing. Or at least, that's what Garrison was urging when he heard about the proposed change of plans. 

The fourth had the misfortune to combine the downside of both the first two entries - making them uneasy AND being depressing, and causing an unexpected level of defensiveness on the part of every man participating. Well, none of them liked remembering being played for a fool.

In the end, it was an unexpected suggestion made by Chief that won the day.

And so it was that on the 31st of January, on the cold hard ground of France, huddled together to keep warm, waiting for the morning just a few brief hours away, they whispered their fondest memories of that elusive thing - 'Joy'. 

And it was more than a little comforting, to them, and to Garrison as he listened to them, that they each had some things to offer, a reminder that life DID occasionally dish up that sweet delight, even to men like them. Perhaps not as frequently as they could have wished, but still, enough to leave a small glow in one corner of their heart.

They smiled in the darkness as they listened to whispered joys being shared by their brothers-in-arms.

Chief told them of the smell of desert sage "smokey and sharp, cool and hot all at the same time - my grandfather told me that's the smell of wild magic, strong medicine. Meghada says that's part of what Goniff here smells like, remember? Never noticed that myself, but then I don't snuggle up all close to him like she does."

That got a low chuckle from everyone.

He told of the feel of his blade under his fingers, more than a weapon, a talisman, bringing reassurance and comfort, a sense of focus, "like what they call a 'worry stone' outta that meditation book of yours, Warden, or maybe an 'amulet', like in that story Actor told last week. Something that helps make you stronger, helps you BE stronger, somehow." 

He spoke of the joy of the first sight of dawn; the chirrip of a desert lark. 

"The taste of cool clear water from a mountain spring when you're dry all the way to your bones."

Casino leaned his head back, looking at the dark sky. "The smell of my Mom's kitchen, all garlic and oregano and thyme and fresh bread. The sound the tumblers on a safe make when it's just ready to give me all its secrets. The smooth feel and twist of a bocce ball as it leaves my fingers and I can tell it's gonna go right where I told it to. 'Ave Marie', sung by someone who really knows what they're doing, don't try and take the easy way through. Bagna càuda, all hot and smooth and biting, like what Goniff made for us that time, remember?"

Chief and Goniff both had the same thought, {"wonder what it would take to set up one of those bocce layouts at the Mansion?"}

Actor smiled, remembering his own past joys. "The smell of the lavender fields of Provence, where sweet Mareilla made her home; it permeated everything, even her hair. Months after I left, I pulled a handkerchief from my satchel, and the faint traces of the scent still brought her face before me, made me smile. My first visit to the Louvre, my first close viewing of the grand paintings in their collection; three days in a row I spent there, opening to closing - I doubt a month would have been enough. I've promised myself that if she, and I, survive this war, I will someday allow myself that month."

{"And I will introduce Lynn to the beauty and riches there; I think she would like that."}

"The feel of the finest silk sliding under my hand; even in the dark you can somehow 'see' the sheen, imagine the colors; it was always a shock to view a particular piece in the daylight - sometimes the color was almost transparent, when your mind had pictured it in the deepest hues just from the feel. The rich taste of the big green olives that come from Greece, stuffed with the sharp goat's cheese they make there as well, and the sweet cloying taste of Medjool dates, filled with blanched almonds."

His mouth watered with the remembering of that combination, laid out with crusty bread at that tiny sidewalk cafe on that dusty sidestreet in Athens.

"The sound of the Emmanuel Bell of the Cathédral de Notre-Dame de Paris; it is not the most beautiful in tone of the great church bells, perhaps, but it touches something within me."

There was a pause, then Goniff whispered what the word meant to him.

"All that sounds real fine, it really does. But to my mind, it's the smell of fresh cotton sheets just brought in from the line - w'ere you can just smell the flowers and 'erbs from the garden, and the fresh air and even the sunshine everytime you move around on them."

They knew which garden he meant; he'd surely never experienced that in the East End of London, where the coal fires and gutters left the air smelling of anything but flowers and herbs and fresh air and sunshine.

He chuckled, "and buttons, odd as that might seem - the way they feel at first touch, all right and tight, but then the way they slide under my fingers, coming loose with just a tug. Something almost magic about them." 

He smiled in the darkness, glancing sideways over at Garrison, knowing it was dark enough no one would see or understand, but he knew Garrison would be remembering. {"That last time, in the garden, all lovely and warm, the three of us, that big quilt on the grass, moonlight everywhere, so many buttons to fall open under our fingers - coo, that WAS magic!"}

"And 'ow the table looks when 'Gaida's been busy in the kitchen, it just calling out to me, telling me to come 'elp myself, that no one's gonna fuss at me for 'aving my fill. And voices - but not just anyone's, acourse; lots of voice are just downright annoying or worse. But my mum's voice, and Aunt Moll's, along with 'Gaida, acourse, w'ether she's just talking or singing, maybe whispering in the middle of the night, maybe to 'elp bring me out of a bad dream. And a couple three or four more, like all of you guys. All that's joy, at least to me."

{"Maybe I should feel silly, bring buttons into it, and clean sheets, but if Casino can 'ave 'is bocce ball, and Actor 'is silk, seems I should be able to 'ave buttons and sheets."}

And Garrison, although not contributing, he smiled right along with them, tasting a little of the joy they'd been remembering, had been willing to share.

{"And although I'm not playing the game, and although I'd never be able to explain it to anyone else without them thinking I was crazy, this, tonight, this is 'joy' too. Together, all of us, safe at least for the moment, them sharing with each other like that,"} Garrison admitted to himself, letting his eyes rest, in turn, on each of the four shadows surrounding him, ending with his resident pickpocket. {"This too is joy."}

And, they all agreed, a discussion of joy was probably a more optimistic way to start a new year than thinking about jerks they had known, or anticipating jerks they had not yet met. Maybe it would encourage Fate to deliver a little more of the former, maybe fewer of the last.

{"Or maybe it will let us notice more of the first, anyhow, not let the presence of the latter make us lose sight of what's important."} 

Oddly enough, though that thought was perhaps worded differently among the five men, something very similar in nature did occur to each of them.

Now, to just get this hair-brained mission over with, make it back to the Mansion, and dig into that 'Practical Jokes' marathon that February promised. At least that one shouldn't be too complicated.


End file.
